Lola Montez: An Adventuress of the 'Forties

by Edmund B. D'Auvergne

XXIV

THE DOWNFALL

This view of the King’s sentiments towards his favourite was not acceptable to that lady’s political enemies. It is to be observed, also, that the champions of orthodox morality are the hardest to persuade of the actual existence or possibility of virtue in the individual. It would seem at times that they doubt the efficacy of baptismal waters to wash out original sin. Morality finds strange champions in all lands. The House of Lords, the racing papers, the transpontine stage, and the Irish moon-lighters have all been found at one time or another on the side of the angels. In Bavaria in 1848 the University students, still for the greater part leavened by Ultramontane doctrines, posed as the vindicators of Christian morality, and spoke of Lola as the Scarlet Woman. With singular inconsistency they continued to profess their devotion to the King, who must have obviously been in their eyes, a partner in the woman’s guilt. The Catholic Church does not discriminate between the sexes as regards this particular offence; moreover, evil example in a prince is held by all moralists to be more serious than in a private person. Lola, also, was believed to be single; Louis was living with his wife. The man’s offence, then, would seem from every point of view to have been graver; nor could it have been excused on the ground of weakness of will or understanding, for this in a king would itself have aggravated his guilt. The undergraduates of Munich, however, being pupils of the Jesuits and presumably skilled in casuistry, would no doubt have been able to explain an attitude which appears inconsistent to the non-academic mind.

All the members of the University were not under the thumb of the clericals. Two or three students of the corps Palatia (Pfalz)—probably Protestants—did not hesitate to appear at the Countess of Landsfeld’s salon, which was the resort of the most brilliant people in Munich. Lola’s fancy was taken by the colours of the corps, and she playfully stuck one of the young fellows’ caps on her pretty head. The students were, in consequence, expelled from their association. A large number of Liberal students thereupon seceded from their respective corps and formed a new one, appropriately called Alemannia. The new body was at once recognised by the King, and endowed with all the privileges of an ancient corps. Lola insisted upon providing every member with an exceedingly smart uniform, at her own expense, and with delight saw them establish their head-quarters in a house backing upon her own. The Alemannia became her devoted bodyguard. They watched her house, they escorted her in the street. She graced their festivals, dressed in the close-fitting uniform of the corps. Berks entertained them to a banquet at the palace of Nymphenburg, and in a stirring speech publicly commended their zeal for the cause of enlightenment, humanity and progress.

Conflicts between the Alemannen and the other corps were frequent. The University was split into two bitterly, venomously hostile camps, and Lola’s partisans, being the fewer, seemed likely to have the worst of it. The Rector, Thiersch, intervened, and publicly took the new corps under his protection. For this act he was thanked by the King. But the mutual hatred of the factions knew no abatement. Now the wires began to feel the touch of other operators than the Jesuits. The revolutionary party was gathering strength in the winter of 1847-8. Any rod was good enough to beat a King with, and no means or agents were to be despised which would weaken his authority, and the respect in which he was held by his subjects. As to the Countess of Landsfeld, she had played her part: she had struck a mortal blow at the Jesuits, she had kept Bavaria in leash while Switzerland throttled the Sonderbund. Now, the Liberals could do without her. Her downfall would involve the King’s. The situation was promising. The Radicals determined to let the Clericals pull the chestnuts out of the fire.

The death of Görres, a former revolutionary who had turned mystic and Ultramontane in his latter years, was the signal for a formidable explosion. The police forbade any speech-making at his funeral, which took place on 31st January 1848, but were unable to prevent a pilgrimage to his grave, organised by the Ultramontane students, a week later. The corps Franconia, Bavaria, Isar, and Suabia, turned out in force. The procession soon resolved itself into a demonstration against the King’s favourite. The fierce hostile murmur of the mob reached the ears of Lola in her palace in Barerstrasse. She could, without loss of honour or dignity, have ignored the demonstration: an angry mob is a foe which a brave man hesitates to meet single-handed. But Lola Montez knew not the meaning of fear. With incredible rashness and magnificent courage she deliberately went out into the street to meet her enemies face to face. She was received with groans and insult. “Very well,” she cried, “I will have the University closed!” This haughty threat maddened the crowd. A rush was made for her. A gallant band of Alemannen closed round to defend her. Their leader, Count Hirschberg, attempted to use a dagger in his own defence, but it was wrested from him, and he was severely injured. Lola, forced at last to yield before superior numbers, retreated into the Church of the Theatines. The Catholic rowdies, not daring to violate the right of sanctuary, laid siege to the building, and were dispersed with difficulty by the military. The Ultramontanes reckoned it a glorious day; it was such, indeed, for the Countess of Landsfeld, who displayed a courage on this occasion of which no king or prince has ever given proof in any revolutionary crisis. The picture of this woman, attended only by two or three students, deliberately going out to meet a band of her infuriated enemies, is one which deserves a place in the gallery of heroic deeds.

The King immediately gave effect to Lola’s threat. On 9th February he signed a decree closing the University, and ordered all students not natives of the city to leave it within twenty-four hours. The edict threw all Munich into consternation. The departure of upwards of a thousand young men, many of them wealthy and well-connected, meant a serious blow to trade and a rending of innumerable social ties. The students marched, singing songs of adieu, to present a valedictory address to the Rector. The citizens bestirred themselves, and to the number of two thousand signed a petition, imploring His Majesty to reconsider the decision. Louis inclined a favourable ear to their prayers, and announced on 10th February that the University would remain closed only for the summer term.

This act of weakness cost Louis I. his mistress and his crown.

The revolutionary party perceived that this was the moment to strike. The King had yielded; the students were exultant and conscious of their strength; the townsfolk were weary of this ceaseless conflict between the Countess and her foes. Your good, old-fashioned burgher cares nothing for the rights and wrongs of a public dispute; he wishes to be left in peace to turn a penny into three half-pence, and to achieve that end is as ready to sacrifice the innocent as the guilty. Jacob Vennedey, a publicist and Radical famous in his day, writing from Frankfort, did his utmost to fan the flame of revolution.